User blog comment:Biggren/Silvir Shadows/@comment-3135907-20170110015555

@Breitbart "Roora shoora doora dogg

Hully Rogg is a big hedgehog.

Dwoola roola shoola shogg

Chest like a tower, arms like logs."

In between beats of a drum and the dance of the smoke, one bass voice could be heard, deep and resounding as a bulhorn.

Mulker Tweng held up an excited paw, stopping the advance of the others like a held breath. "Int'restin'...I want to hear more." The rat's voice shifted between accents, as though he really had no default, either by virtue of birth or lost and forgotten over seasons of insanity chipping away at what little remained of his depraved and tortured psyche.

But even Tweng couldn't have expected what came next. Just ahead and through both the trees and down an embankment, Tarun made out the forms of a large hedgehog, perhaps the focus of the song, and four smaller hedgehogs, and the lot dressed in an assortment of skins and furs, with spikes completely adorned with wildflowers, ribbon bits, more unsettlingly, the torn multicolored feathers of easily a hundred different bird species: jay blue, cardinal red, shimmering iridescent nightjar and raven black, even the brown and white of an owl's prize wing feather tucked smartly in one bright orange wool tam-o'-shanter.

It was a curious sight. Their yellow, silver and white plaid kilts, even more unsettlingly, were "enhanced" with the tails of what could only be squirrels, foxes, and stoats. On the belt of the silently grinning hog he could only assume was Hully Rogg, a hare's paw dangled from a silver chain for luck.

The almost ritualistic mutual praise continued.

"Jooga dooga rooga rye

And nobeast says it, but 'tis no lie!

Hoona shoona doona dye

That Hully's wider than he is high!

Furla curla murla my

Nobeast says it because they'd die!

Twurla swurla shurla shy

Aye! Hully'd hang 'em up to dry!

Up to dryyy!"